The Curse of Eros
by Frozeninspace
Summary: The tragic love story of Dido and Aeneas, as seen by Dido.


As I stand at the top of this pyre, the betrayer's blade in my hand, I begin to remember the events that led me here. I remember the weather in which that man - Aeneas, my mind supplies involuntarily - arrived on my shore in. A great storm had passed, clearly the work of the gods, which had caused him to appear on my shore, exhausted and malnourished. I took him into my home and fed him, as he regaled the stories of how he had come to be in my court. His description of the loss of his homeland and the death of his wife, along with that of the great weight resting on his shoulders, touched me in a way that not many could say it did, for I too had lost my home and my spouse, before being trusted to form a new empire which would one day be known to the whole world. The look in his eyes as he spoke was faraway, even as the tears coursed down his face, and I listened with a weeping heart, my own eyes wet in sympathy. I suppose this was the beginning of my downfall. I had sworn that I would never love another man after Sychaeus, but now my whole body yearned to lie next him, to feel his fingers running over my skin, his lips on my neck…saying any more of what I wished would be unseemly, I suppose. The love that ran through felt almost like poison, burning my veins as it ran through me, and I confided in my sister, oh lovely Anna, just how I felt. I wished to be with him, but I knew that I could not. 'Oh my dear,' she had said, 'why torture yourself so over such a joyous occasion? The dead do not worry themselves with the affairs of the living, and do you really believe that he would remain celibate had you been the one to perish?' 'I suppose not,' I replied, somewhat comforted by her advice, 'but are you sure that the gods will not be angry with me?' 'The gods, as blessed they may be, are not known for their own good behaviour,' she had joked, before I had left, more secure in my wish to pursue him. And it seemed that the gods were smiling on our match, as we soon made an arrangement to go hunting together. The man had stolen my heart, and with it my common sense, and soon I was near obsessed with him, my soul hanging on his every word. We hunted for a time, before we managed to lose the rest of our party. We searched for a while, but soon the heavens opened, and we took shelter in a cave, where he wrapped his arms around me so as to keep me warm. This kind gesture began to stoke the fire which already raged within my heart, and when he kissed me, I felt that my very skin was near to combustion. The rest of our night was wordless as we simply lost ourselves in each other, and in that night I felt more alive than I ever had before. Eventually, as he stayed longer and longer, I began to see us as married, an inseparable team against the many conflicts which could face us in the future. I did not forget my destiny, and nor did he, but we worked together to build the city that would later be known as Carthage. However, my joy did not last long, for in a short time, I heard that his ships were preparing to leave, along with him. I was overtaken by a manic frenzy, as I ran to him in order to hear the truth of what was occurring. When he told me what had happened, that Jupiter had sent Mercury down to remind him of his and his small son's fate - the very child that sat on my lap as I was infused with love for his father, I was irate - I had thought that perhaps his destiny would be intertwined with mine. Even though I knew that I was not my place to be angry with him, but rather with the gods, I lashed out, hitting him on the breast with balled fists, fitful sobs wrenching themselves from my gut. He even had the audacity to remind me that we were not married, had never been married, and that it was in his destiny to abandon me. My anger took me over, and I said some truly hateful things, including that I wished I had never met him - of all the things I said, this was the greatest fallacy. I ran off, before seeing black; the last thing I remembered was my legs folding beneath me and the startled gasps from my maids. When I awoke, albeit unwillingly, I pleaded with Anna - dear, sweet Anna - to ask the Trojans to wait for better winds before leaving my shores yet when she returned, she told me that he had refused, with pity colouring her eyes. However, these events were not the end of this story. Soon, mysterious things began to happen in the temples - the water on the altars became black as the obsidian gems I wore around my neck, and the wine in the goblets turned to blood. The strangest was the whispers that rose from Sychaeus' grave - the whispers that turned to shouts should I ever walk by. These events were the ones to play my hand - I deserved to die for what I had done to the memory of the beloved deceased, and there was no point to life if Aeneas would not spend it with me. I asked Anna to build me this pyre, under the pretense that I simply wished to burn the possessions that Aeneas had left behind (which was true to an extent - I saw myself abandoned by him as they were), before wondering whether I should instead follow them - no, I decided, if he did not ask me to come, then I would not go. Again I was reminded of my unfaithfulness when I remembered who had given me the necklace that hung around my neck. I then went to stand by the window, and I watched as the fires around the Trojan's ships go out one by one - the one by Aeneas' ship was the only one to stay lit. I knew he would be asleep by now - I didn't need to imagine how he looked as he slept; I had seen that handsome face in slumber many times, had watched the pain of his past seep away as Hypnos worked his magic. Eventually, I too succumbed to the god's powers, but not absolutely, as my sleep was fitful and full of terror. I woke up in the morning to see the harbour empty. I could see the sun glinting off the sails in the distance, and I knew that he had made his choice. I was alone, and now anything that could hinder me was gone. The fires in my heart had turned to Stygian ice. I wished that I had killed Aeneas when I had the chance, and prayed that he would fail in his mission, as well as swearing that my people and his would be enemies. I ensured the pyre was ready by asking my sister's old nurse to check, before entering into the courtyard where the monument of my nearing destruction by my own hand stood. The pile had been difficult to climb, but now I stand at the top, where I began. The blade is raised, and positioned just so, meaning it will go straight into my heart, the very thing causing me this pain. I know I shall be found very soon, so I stab it down, crying out as it passes through me. I am reminded that this blade was Aeneas', but I don't have long to consider this before Anna appears, screaming my name, trying to climb the pyre. But it is too late. I can see a heavenly woman standing before me, her clothes the colour of when the sun hits rain - Iris, my dying brain whispers - and I know. It is my time. I feel the shackles that held my soul to this mortal body break, and I raise myself up, watching my own chest breathe out one last time. I take hold of the goddess' hand, before letting her lead me to the land below. I see a lock of my hair in her other hand, and she smiles at me, before saying 'Perhaps now you will get your peace.' And maybe, I hope, I will. 


End file.
